


The Pregnancy

by Kikimay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Community: hd_familyfest, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Mystery, Pregnant Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-31 12:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12132378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikimay/pseuds/Kikimay
Summary: “It’s an exceptional event even in the Wizarding World. A wizard being … you know. Pregnant.”Draco discovers that he’s pregnant and in danger, Auror Harry will protect him.





	The Pregnancy

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Number:** prompt 8 by carpemermaid  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
>  **Warning(s):** Mpreg  
>  **Epilogue compliant?** Nope  
>  **Author's Notes:** Dear carpemermaid, I truly loved your prompt. As it happens, I modified a key aspect of it (Draco being pregnant instead of saving the already born baby) because that’s how my brain works unfortunately. I hope that you’ll enjoy the story all the same and that it will provide the necessary amount of angst, romance and forced proximity issues. Many thanks to my beta T and, as always, kudos and comments are love.  <3

*

Harry sat behind his desk. The walls of his office were covered with warnings on Dark Magic and dangerous wizards, various moving photographs, dense faces of criminals roaring at the spectator. The old armchair left by his predecessor was almost comfortable compared to the enraged expressions in the photos.

The door opened and Harry stood up. His superior, Kingsley Shaklebolt, entered the room followed by Harry’s colleagues, Ed Boyle and Ron Weasley.

“We got the permission from St. Mungo’s.”

Harry put both hands on the desk.

“What we do know is that this magic is incredibly rare,” Kingsley was saying, addressing to no one in particular, examining the papers he had in his hands. “It was only documented two or three times in the last century. We have to plan our moves carefully and we must renew the protocol, used during the 1912 case …”

“I’m sorry,” Harry tried. “Can I …”

Ron swallowed anxiously, determined to explain the whole situation. Harry smiled at the thought of Hermione doing the same.

“Well,” he began. “It’s an exceptional event even in the Wizarding World. A wizard being … you know. _Pregnant,”_ he added, blushing to his ears. “Nobody knows what sort of magic makes it possible. Not even in these days, with everything we discovered, we have a clear explanation on why and how it happens, except that some wizards think it’s about Veela blood or something. It the past, it was assumed that male pregnancy was due to a considerable use of forbidden magic or some sort of … _sin of the father_. The idea that a male could conceive was frightening and that put both parent and child at great risk,” he added. “That’s why a specific protocol was created.”

“That’s right,” Shacklebolt said. “In the documented cases before 1912, the parent and the child were attacked. Criminals assumed that there was some sort of value in stealing the wizard’s blood while he was still carrying the child. Although, I trust in the best of our society, I also prepare for the worst, so it won’t happen. The wizard in our care will be protected from now until the birth of his son or daughter. He expressed the will to continue the pregnancy and we will be there for him.”

“Who is he?”

Shacklebolt and Ron exchanged an intense look. Ed Boyle came forward and, with an embarrassed half-smile, left a picture on his colleague’s desk.

Harry’s heart sank in his chest.

*

“Your protection will be entrusted to our team. You will stay in a safe place, Mr. Malfoy, an Auror will watch over you. The Ministry and the St Mungo’s team will provide special assistance. Unfortunately, your contacts with the outside world will be severely limited. You have to endure isolation until we will be positively sure about your and your child’s safety. Our best man, Harry Potter, will provide to your needs.”

*

Grimmauld Place was a shabby house that still showed traces of its remote beauty in the silvery snakes at the doors and the richness of the oldest furniture. It was the ancestral home of the Blacks, a pureblood family related to Draco. It had become the propriety of Harry, who never fully accepted the inheritance.

“This place can’t be traced, no one will find you here,” the Auror explained, scratching his neck as he tried to illustrate the new accommodations. 

He had already reserved Sirius’ room to Draco, because there was no way he could have slept in there. Only to discover that the Slytherin preferred Regulus’ one. 

“I’ll help with any of your requests,” he continued. “The food supplies will be delivered two times a week, from a trusted member of my squad. You’ll have your own Healer visiting you and potions for your health,” he sighed. “The only problem is this place, not exactly welcoming or warm …”

“I’ve grown up in the Manor. I’m sure I can manage.”

“Yeah, I was just saying …”

Malfoy turned around, lifted his pointy chin.

“What, Potter?”

“I’ll use warming charms.”

“Mh,” Draco replied, as if the issue wasn’t concerning him at all. He put a finger on a low piece of furniture, capturing a clump of dust. “I would hope that the hygiene will improve within few days.”

Harry’s eyes dropped.

“I’ll … do my best. The kitchen is downstairs and next to your room there’s a bathroom you can use.”

The Slytherin wrinkled his nose.

“I would also hope that you’re familiar with the old art of cooking. I was raised with house elves doing the chores and I’ve never really learned how to make something decent beside an omelette. It seems that my diet needs to take into account my recent … body changes.”

“I can cook, Malfoy. Don’t worry.”

“I try not to.”

*

The next morning Draco woke up surprisingly early. When he went down in the kitchen, Harry was already cleaning up the shelves. He had charmed the stove and the plates, but was handling manually the hob.

Draco sat at the table. 

“There’s tea on the shelf over there and a plate with fried eggs.”

“Thank you. I shall have just the tea, for now.”

Harry smiled.

“Morning sickness?” he asked.

Malfoy’s expression changed. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean … of course, have some tea.”

Harry kept focusing on his task while listening to the occasional sipping behind him. Draco didn’t speak for long moments.

“We’ll need …” he started. Harry turned around. “We’ll need fruits and vegetables. I have to eat those, mostly. Fish too and the occasional meat.”

“Sure. Ed is working on it.”

“Who’s Ed? As I said, I should eat in a certain way. But I would also like to …”

“Yes?”

“Mh … apricot biscuits, if you please. They are a specialty in Hogsmeade, at Madam Puddifoot’s shop. I don’t know if you’re familiar …”

“I am,” Harry replied. ‘ _Unfortunately’_ , he did not add.

Malfoy looked surprised.

“So, apricot biscuits,” he remembered. “And then some raw lemons, if you don’t mind.”

“Got that.”

An embarrassed silence filled the space. Harry stopped cleaning and sat down on a spot opposite to Draco. The chair he moved made the loudest noise ever.

“What are you going to do in here, to spend time? Have you figured out something or do you need suggestions?” he asked, moistening a small slice of bread over the still soft egg yolk.

“I’ve lived under house arrest, Potter. You, of all the people, should remember. I know how to deal with boredom.”

“So, what will you do?”

Draco sighed.

“I have books. I will spend my time studying, I suppose, and reading just for the sake of it. I think … I will spend a considerable amount of time in my room.”

Harry tried to reply, but Draco was already leaving.

*

The first week passed in a guarded silence, dotted with furtive and vaguely belligerent stares. Harry read Malfoy’s report once again: “ _thirteen weeks pregnant, foetus in good conditions, acceptable weight. Recommended motion; walking at least thirty minutes per day. Recommended nutritional potions.”_  
  
With avid curiosity, Harry also read details and medical infos about pregnancy in general. He discovered that, during the thirteenth week, the mother’s womb started to show and the morning sickness generally stopped. Harry wondered if Malfoy, a man, was following a regular pregnancy pattern or if his body was reacting differently. The Healer who visited him once just nodded at him and said that everything was fine.

For his part, Malfoy gave no sign of frailty. His face, pale and pointed, continued to bear the traces of his aristocratic pride; his chin was stubbornly up and his eyes were still challenging Harry, as they did back at Hogwarts. At times, he still looked like a spoiled, cruel child. 

“I hate this tea,” Draco muttered, dropping the cup with a disgusted grimace.

“You asked for Earl Grey.”

“Yes, and now I don’t want it anymore. Tell your food guy to bring other types of tea, Potter. Tell him to bring them quickly.”

“It’s not something I can do. There are rules.”

“Then change the stupid rules. I can’t bear this awful taste anymore!”

Harry sighed, shoulders dropping, eyes fixed on Draco who was avoiding his serious stare. The golden glow of the autumnal sun was invading the kitchen, Draco’s blond hair almost shone in the light.

“I can’t believe they decided to put us together for this,” he whispered, still avoiding the other man’s eyes.

“It’s not so bad, isn’t it?”

The Slytherin’s hands curled around his belly. He turned around and glared at Harry. His forehead was almost too pale and his eyes were hollow. It felt wrong for him to look this way, it felt unnatural.

“I suppose so,” he replied.

Then he stood up and left.

*

During the subsequent weeks of forced house sharing, the two roommates talked little to each other. Harry cooked for them and – with the help of Molly who was allowed to send more food – faced the issue of healthy eating.

Malfoy devoted himself to his readings, sometimes barely getting out of his room, sometimes wandering in the house aimlessly. Harry never expected to feel a sort of relief in watching him walking around.

Over time, Malfoy began to wake up later. His dark, regularly cut robes no longer fitted him and he started putting on yoga pants and soft jackets. 

He felt too tired sometimes, and Harry fed him with reconstitution potions and pepper-ups. He accepted the kindness with small, disgruntled puffs and dozed off on the sofas.

During the fifth week, as Harry was walking in the corridor outside his room, he heard his cries of pleasure.

*

Harry woke around seven and performed his usual patrol of the house. After testing the defensive mechanisms and controlling each room, he headed to Malfoy’s to make sure he was still sleeping.

He opened the door a little and peered inside. 

Malfoy’s blond head was emerging from a mountain of soft, green covers. He was sleeping on his belly, but there was something odd in the position. He was pressing himself against the mattress, using his feet as leverage.

A chocked groan leaped in the air and Harry’s stomach tighten up.

Malfoy pressed his face against the pillows and moaned, pushing a hand under his body. His arm started moving, his breathing becoming more elaborate.

Harry freezed on the spot, his cock pushing in his pants. He recognised Malfoy’s moves and scolded himself for not closing the door immediately instead of staring at him like a creep.

Malfoy was masturbating.

“Oh!” he moaned and then grunted a bit louder.

Harry could imagine him closer to the orgasm, trembling under the covers …

He shut the door and ran downstairs.

*

“This toast is stringier than your usual, Potter.”

Harry looked up. Draco had the usual vacuous stare as he bit a piece of breakfast.

“And you’re the worst interlocutor I’ve ever met,” he added, pointing at Harry with an accusatory finger. “One would imagine that you’re used to this, given your fame as Saviour of the Wizarding World.”

“This?”

“Talking!” Malfoy exclaimed, rolling his eyes. He let go of the last pieces of toast and stretched down in his chair. “I’m bored.”

“So am I.”

“Well, you should think of something!”

“You could too. I remember you were great at entertaining people back at Hogwarts.”

Draco grimaced.

“Back then you generously provided the material …”

Harry rolled his eyes back at him.

“Do you want to see something?”

*

Draco was used to wandering in the house and examining rooms and corridors, but Harry hoped that this particular feature was still a mystery to him.

They climbed the stairs and entered in a very cold room, not warmed by Harry’s charms. The great tapestry with the Black family tree was standing in front of them. 

“You can go on,” Harry said to Malfoy, who was standing by the door, surprised and a bit suspecting. “It’s not going to bite.”

“Very funny, Saviour. In case you don’t know, I don’t need your permission to do anything. This house belonged to my mother’s family.”

“I know. And there she is,” the Auror replied, pointing at Narcissa’s name on the tapestry. 

Draco moved closer to have a better look. The golden letters were shining.

“And here you are,” Harry said. “The name originated by the union of Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy. Can you see the golden bit under it? It looks almost like a tiny root …”

“My son.”

Harry held his breath in amazement.

“Yes. He will … take his place here, when he’s born.”

Draco’s eyes avidly inspected the canvas, the golden threats and letters, the names of his ancestors.

“Why some of them are burned off?” he asked.

“That was Sirius’ mother. When someone disgraced her family, she … burned their names.”

Draco bowed his head, pensive. His pale hands flew to cover his baby bump. Harry’s heart tightened in his chest.

“I’m going to rest now,” Draco said. “I’m so tired. The Healer will visit later.”

“Of course, you need your rest.”

The Healer came at the usual hour and made his report. Afterwards, Draco asked for a warm bath before going to sleep. Harry performed a special warming spell for him and filled the bath with water. Draco entered the room already in a bathrobe, barefoot and naked under it. Harry turned around embarrassed, pushed back his black hair, and wished him goodnight.

He closed the door behind him and went down the stairs, stopping halfway through the path. He took a deep breath, exhaled, fisting his shirt. 

A selfish desire ran through is veins and he almost automatically turned around, as under an Imperio curse. Despising himself for what he was about to do, he climbed the stairs again. Stood by the door. He spied through the lock.

Malfoy had his head curved against the surface of the bathtub, his long bony legs bent forward, chest damp and clearly visible behind his kneels. It was still toned as in the stolen moments in the locker rooms after Quidditch. Wider, perhaps, because of his age, but harmonious and beautiful. 

Harry closed his fists, nails digging into his skin.

Malfoy washed himself a little and then rose up a bit, turned around to catch the soap. His shiny rounded belly was clearly visible.

And Harry run away once again.

*

“I need something, Potter. Do you have a moment?”

“Tell me,” the Auror replied, stopping with his push-ups. He was training in one of the spare rooms. 

“I wanted to ask about the communications protocol. I know I can’t contact Pansy and my friends, but I wanted … I wanted to send an owl to my mother without being spied by the Ministry. She’s my mother, for Salazar’s sake!” 

Harry rubbed his shirt against his damp forehead, then found the glasses and up them back on his nose.

“I see,” he replied. “I’ll see what I can do. I might even let them agree to give a Floo permission for Narcissa.”

“Promise me you will.”

The Auror looked up.

“I promise.”

Draco seemed to weigh the determination and sincerity of his gaze. Then he nodded and moved away slowly.

“Malfoy … Draco!”

“Yes?”

“I know it’s difficult for you … this isolation, this whole situation. I know I’m not the person you would want next to you in a moment like this,” he said, wondering about Draco’s blushing cheeks. “But, as far as I’m concerned, you’re showing incredibly strength and great, great bravery. I admire that. I will do anything to make your wish come true.”

“Thank you.”

The Auror obtained the permission the same day, thanks to Hermione’s pushing over in the Ministry. In the late evening, a grey owl came to Grimmauld Place and Draco jumped on his feet and ran to the Floo, followed by a smiling Harry. He handled the powder to Draco and went in the other room, as soon as he saw Narcissa’s face appearing in the flames.

When Draco returned to the kitchen, his expression was strange: joy mixed with sorrow and maybe something else altogether. Harry felt a rush of protectiveness and fought against his instinct to hold Draco in his arms.

In his dreams they were sleeping together, tangled and warm like lazy cats, hands on the belly heavy with child.

Harry couldn’t help himself. He imagined Draco surrendering to his touch, looking up at him as he stroked his shiny hair. He imagined the weight of a body closer to his own and kisses on a swollen belly and lips. Harry imagined being the father of the child Draco was carrying. 

From these dreams, he woke up with a painful erection and his heart a little more wounded.

*

They were sitting at the kitchen table for the usual supper. Grimmauld Place was becoming colder and colder with the approaching winter and Harry performed various warming charms while Draco started wearing a blanket on his shoulders.

“They changed the Healer,” Draco murmured, at some point.

“What? They haven’t told me anything.”

“They did. The previous one who came here before … he said it would have happened and I’m in good hands.”

“They haven’t told me anything,” Harry repeated, slightly stunned. 

“Welcome to the club,” the Slytherin murmured, biting a potato. “Nobody tells me anything. I’m forced to stay here, segregated, and I have little to no control over my body. How do you think I feel?”

“It’s for your safety,” Harry tried, not even sounding convincing to his own ears. “It’s for the baby’s safety …”

“I don’t want another Healer!”

“It’ll be alright. I’m sure he’s …”

“It’s humiliating enough like this.”

The Floo was activated in a flash of green flaming light and smoke. Harry got up and pulled off his wand. He approached the incoming new Healer, who presented himself.

“My name is Healer Burns,” the wizard said, dryly. He was a tall, skinny man, with grey hair on his temples and a grey suit. “I was sent by the Ministry to examine Mr Malfoy.”

Harry nodded. Performed his charms to make sure about the other wizard’s identity and read carefully the paper he was carrying. He nodded, turning around to point at Draco who was standing by the door.

“I suppose you’ll be excited to examine a freak.”

Burns’ stoic expression didn’t change. He greeted Harry with a polite nod and followed his patient. The visit lasted thirty-seven minutes exactly, as predicted in the Ministry paper.

*

Despite the late hour and the freezing cold, Draco insisted for his evening bath. As Harry performed the spell to ensure the warmth inside the room, he couldn’t help but thinking about a naked Malfoy, a few feet away from him, naked and warm and wet. The thoughts tortured him more than anything else. When Malfoy entered the bathroom, he rushed away without looking at him.

“Hey Harry! I’ve forgot the towels. Could you bring them?”

The Auror nodded and ran to the laundry. He came back quickly, knocked at the door and waited.

“You can come in.”

The room was wrapped in a cloud of vapor and his glasses immediately went white, obscuring his sight.

“Put them next to the sink,” Malfoy instructed, while washing his knee.

Harry swallowed, jeans suddenly too tight, rushing over the tub where Malfoy was bathing.

“I wish someone would be here to help me wash my back,” he heard him say, and clenched his fingers around the soft fabric of the towels. 

“I would love a back message, once in a while,” Malfoy mused. “I would love to feel close to someone.”

“Don’t.”

“What?” he asked and turned enough to make his swollen belly and his pink nipples emerge from the water. 

“Please don’t,” Harry murmured. “It’s a job for me, nothing more.”

The Slytherin’s eyes filled with disdain. 

“I forgot you’re the mighty Saviour of the Wizarding World! Far better than me.”

“Don’t twist my words!”

“I’m not. I suppose you must be so disappointed to be stuck here, with someone like me.”

“I’m not. I don’t … Malfoy, stop it.”

Draco sighed and threw his head back against the tub, closing his eyes.

“Do you want to know about the father?”

“Who?”

“The one who got me this way,” he snarled, pointing at his navel. “You never asked. Don’t you care?”

Harry closed his hands into tight fists. The words ‘ _I must tell no lies_ ’ a white scar on his skin.

“It was random.”

“I don’t need to know …” 

“… A random fuck,” Malfoy added, souding indifferent. “You had to see Lucius’ face when I told him later … such a shame I brought into my house! He turned all red in disappointment and rage and refused to speak to me … who would have thought, right? He always cared for an heir, just not like this.”

Harry’s shoulders dropped. He looked at Malfoy who was staring at the soapy water in his hands.

“Three times in a century and now me. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be flattered or something. A miracle, truly!”

“I don’t …”

“But I suppose it’s just a job for you. You couldn’t care less.”

“That’s not true!” Harry snapped. “I’m here to protect you! I do care! I’m trying my best to keep you safe and healthy and … I have to protect you!”

“So, it’s just duty?” Malfoy asked, scrutinising Harry. “Or is it more? How could it be? Saint Potter, the flawless Saviour of the Wizarding World … could he be interested in looking at this grotesque body?”

“Don’t say that.”

“You could ask for a different job, you could ask your superiors to stop … stop with this madness. It’s just a mistake, a horrible joke of magic gone wrong! And now I have to stay here, prisoner in this house and looked at like I’m a freak … Just because I let a stranger fuck me against a wall.”

“Spare me the details, Malfoy!”

“It’s disgusting, isn’t it?” the Slytherin smirked, breathing heavily, smooth skin reddened by anger and warmth. He stood up, swollen belly wet and shiny, hardened cock covered by soft fair hair.

“Sit down immediately, you’ll hurt yourself!”

“How about I don’t?” he rebutted, stepping out of the water. “How about I tell you the way this happened?” he snarled, putting one hand under his stomach. “I didn’t even know him, but I followed him at the loo and when he pressed me against that dirty wall, I moaned like a whore. So loud that he had to close my mouth with his fist …”

“Get back into the fucking water or cover yourself! Malfoy … I’m warning you!”

“Everyone asked me how it happened, if I used potions or amulets. The truth is I just took it in the ass and make it work!”

“Stop it.” 

“And when it hurt, I liked it!”

Harry jumped against Draco, grabbing him violently by the arms, squeezing his damp skin. Draco tried to push him away, hit his chest and scratched his shirt, only to be held even more strongly, pushed back against the Auror, a bony knee between his legs.

“You’ll slip and hurt yourself! Don’t you understand?” the Auror screamed, wanting to ask the name of the stranger, wanting to meet him and …

“So, it will be over!” 

“Don’t say that …”

“I say what I want! Fuck you, Potter!” the Slytherin spat, gritted teeth and wet lips. “Fuck you!”

Harry roared like a wounded lion, heart full of rage and sadness, and forcefully pressed his lips against Draco’s. He dug his nails into the other man’s skin and then, realising how much he was hurting him, he let him go and took a step back.

“I’m sorry!”

“No … don’t be … please, Harry. Don’t go,” Draco implored, chasing to fight, closing his eyes. 

Harry touched his damp cheek. 

“Please …”

Then kissed him again, more sweetly and completely.

*

Harry helped Draco into the loose sheets on his own bed. No light except the moon peaking from the window, his milky whiteness against the paleness of Draco’s skin.

He was such a strange, overwhelming beauty, all soft curves against sharp angles. His rosy nipples looked larger and darker than before, his sharp hipbones too narrow for his round belly. He outstretched his legs, touching Harry’s.

“Are you sure?”

“Kiss me,” Draco said, eyelids blinking fast in the darkness. There was such languor in his gaze that Harry felt his veins boiling with need and his cock growing harder and harder. 

He quickly pulled off damp jeans and shirt. He leaned over Draco, careful not to put too much weight on him, trembling as he felt the roundness of his baby bump pressed to his abdomen.

“Kiss me more. Don’t let go of me …” 

Harry held him tightly in response. He licked Draco’s lips and chin, breathing out weeks of repressed desire. He adjusted their position and let their cocks rub against one another.

“I’m not going to last,” Malfoy moaned. “I’m so horny these days …”

Harry pressed himself harder against him.

“Touch me, Harry! Make me come …”

A rush of excitement blinded him and Harry squeezed Malfoy to dryness. He heard him sob, legs widened further and shaking. He came himself, pearly splashes on white skin.

They remained still for long moments, then Draco groaned in discomfort and Harry loosened his grip on him, laid beside his body, breathing heavily.

Malfoy was staring at the ceiling, eyelashes fluttering. Harry wanted to apologise for his behaviour, beg on his knees and tell him that he wasn’t allowed to fall in love with him, that it was all a mistake.

He wanted to hold him in his arms and fuck him again and punch the man who got him pregnant and reclaim his rights as Draco’s true protector – _the only worthy enough to be the father of his child,_ a vicious voice whispered to him.

He turned on his side, stomach painfully tight, and prepared himself for the apology and the subsequent fight.

But Draco was already asleep.

*

Harry’s eyes snapped open in the darkness. He jumped on his feet and dressed quickly. He ran into the kitchen where Ed was already storing supplies.

“And good morning to you, mate! Busy making a tour of the house?”

“Sorry, just busy upstairs checking on … you came here at eight, right?”

“Eight o’ clock,” Ed replied, accumulating the vitamins on the table. “Twenty minutes, in and out, you know the rules.”

“Yeah.”

The ginger Auror looked at his colleague with pity in his eyes.

“It’s bloody stressing to watch over a guy for months, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Luckily, I’m here just for the deliveries!” he sighed, popping his eyes out in a funny expression.

Harry sat down, took a biscuit. Draco entered the room.

“Good morning, Auror Boyle.”

“Good morning, mister Malfoy! Feeling well? Ready for a baby?”

Malfoy raised his pointy chin and stared down at the Auror with the coldest, scariest grey eyes. Harry suppressed a grin.

“I’m sorry, I’m … twenty minutes already! Have to go!” Ed said and disappeared in a pop.

“Is being an idiot baboon required to become an Auror?” 

Harry laughed.

“He was just trying … he wanted to say something funny!”

“When in doubt, one should always shut up.”

Harry kept on smiling, eyes fixed on Malfoy’s lovely figure as he bit an apricot biscuit. He felt the overwhelming need to hold him and kiss his lips. Then he remembered, the apologies Draco deserved for his unprofessional behaviour. An iron grip squeezed his stomach.

“Good morning to you,” Draco whispered, smiling back with tenderness. The light in his eyes made everything worse. “What?”

“About last night …”

“Are you going to say that it won’t happen again because you’re not allowed to let it happen?”

“Draco, you must understand.”

He nodded and turned around, biscuit forgotten, trembling chin.

“They say Gryffindors are brave, but I guess it doesn’t apply in this case.”

“It’s not a question of bravery. It’s my job! I have a duty and a code of behaviour. I have to stick with it, otherwise … I’m not allowed to harbour feelings for someone under my protection.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter!” Harry insisted, standing up. “It’s not that I don’t want to or that I have a choice! You are under my protection and I can’t let my feelings hinder my role!”

“So … it’s a matter of feelings now?”

“Of course, it is! What could it be?”

Draco reached the shelf where the milk was stored. He opened a new bottle with surprising indifference, as the conversation happening wasn’t that important.

“Draco, what?” Harry insisted.

“You had your fun. You were curious to know how it felt, how it was to fuck … a man in my condition, I suppose. The novelty wears off ever so quickly.”

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Draco continued, pouring the milk into a glass. “I learned to not trust much the men who want to shag me.”

“Don’t you ever …” Harry exhaled. He clenched his fist, heart beating furiously inside his chest. 

“What?” the Slytherin sputtered, turning around. The glass fell onto the floor, broke down and spilled his content. “Don’t I what?! Do you think that’s my first time? Do you think I’m used to rejection and let downs? I’m bloody pregnant and alone! Can’t you see?” he screamed.

Harry felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

“And I have to do this alone! Nobody will take care of me!”

“I’ll take care of you …”

The Auror stepped forward trying to touch the other man, who escaped him.

“It’s so hard to be alone … so hard …” Draco cried out, body shaken with fear, hands protecting his chest. 

In that moment, Harry decided to forget everything about rules and dos and don’ts. He reached for Draco and held him in his arms firmly, gently. He rubbed his hips and kissed the back of his neck, his clavicle.

“I’m here for you, Draco. I’m here for you,” he promised.

*

They were laying on the Auror’s bed, among crumpled sheets, bodies naked and pliant under each other’s touch. Harry, leveraging on one arm while the other was resting lazily against Draco’s hipbone, was exploring his lover’s mouth. Every single bit of his skin, every tooth and cut in his lips, the taste of his tongue. Draco was holding his cheek, eyes closed.

“We are acting like horny teens, Potter.”

“Mhhh …”

“You haven’t stopped kissing me since we got here,” Draco mused.

Harry muttered something and kept on kissing him.

He was a passionate, extremely physical lover. The best Draco had ever had, he already knew that. And he loved to explore and take his time.

“Use your fingers,” Draco asked, offering his neck. “I love when you do that.”

“Don’t want to hurt you …”

“You won’t.”

Harry rose on his arms. He reached for the nightstand and grabbed the lube. He knelt between Draco’s legs and let his fingers slip inside him.

“Really love when you do that! Oh!”

“Do you?” Harry grinned, curving his digits.

“Yes!” Draco screamed, riding the fingers to orgasm. “Yes!” he smiled, satisfied, and then groaned in discomfort.

“Hey …”

“Just my stupid back, can’t lay on it anymore.”

Harry gently maneuverer them both until Draco was resting on his side and he was holding him from behind. He sighed happily.

“Ouch!”

“What now?”

Draco rolled his eyes at him.

“My son is … appreciating our activities apparently. He’s kicking my insides.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I was hiding a pillow under my robes all this time!” the Slytherin joked. “Here,” he said, taking Harry’s hand and pushing it against his abdomen.

Harry stopped breathing.

“Wow, I can … I feel him!”

“See? Isn’t he kicking?”

“Against my hand, I think. Is that his foot?”

Draco laughed.

“Yeah.”

“Amazing!” 

Harry peppered Draco’s shoulder with kisses and rubbed his hand against the spot where he felt the baby’s foot.

“You’re going to make him kick more!”

“Fantastic!”

Draco laughed and turned his head to find Harry’s lips and kiss them. He rested his hand on Harry’s.

“It’s nice to know that he already has a supporter.”

“So, he’s a boy, right? I mean, for sure? Have you thought about possible names for him?”

Draco nodded.

“He’s a boy, yes. And I was thinking … Scorpius.”

“Scorpius?” the Auror repeated, raising his eyebrows. 

“That idiotic expression on your face isn’t necessary! It’s a perfectly reasonable name,” Draco protested. “The Black family had the tradition of using constellations. It happened to me too. I wanted … I want to give a context to this child. And I like the sound of the name.”

“Why Scorpius though?” 

“The sound of it really, and … scorpions are strong. They are … more than strong, really. They are resilient. They were among the first creatures to walk this Earth,” he explained, caressing his navel. “I want him to be that resilient, that enduring.”

Harry pressed his lips against his lover’s shoulder once again.

“Scorpius is a great name.”

*

The weeks passed. Draco entered his eight month in the middle of December. He was getting heavier and almost too tired to stand up, but Harry always managed to make him smile and spoil him until he was pliant as a cuddly kitten.

They wrapped woollen covers upon each other’s shoulders and talked softly until the first light of the morning. About their lives, about the baby. 

Harry kissed Draco’s cheeks, fuller and rosier, and held his hand at night, when nightmares plagued his dreams. Draco began to discover the secrets about his lover’s childhood, his fears and regrets. 

They fell in love.

*

“Oh, here it comes, Healer Burns!” Draco announced, staring at the lightning Floo.

Harry stood up, raised his wand and waited for the usual procedure to start.

“When I will get this baby out?” Draco moaned, as soon as his healer stepped out of the Floo. “I’m dying over here!”

“Good morning mister Malfoy and good morning to you, Auror Potter,” the man replied, completely unfussed. “I believe that we talked about this and it was established that the possible birthdate is around the twenty-first of January.”

“I’m utterly distraught and nobody cares about my suffering,” Draco muttered, tragically. 

Harry turned around to smile at him. Then looked back at Burns’ hollow expression.

“If you please, Auror Potter.”

The scheduled examination went as smoothly as planned, despite Draco’s exasperating questions. At the end of it, the Healer asked for a private conversation with the Auror.

“Is everything alright? The baby is fine, yeah?”

“The baby is perfectly healthy and, as I already said to Mr Malfoy, we can’t rush his birth. But I need to speak with you.”

“About what?”

Healer Burns raised his little, dark eyes and stared at Harry.

“I will have to report your misconduct.”

“My what?”

“I’m a Healer, Auror Potter,” he pointed out, blankly. “I can interpret the signs of recent sexual activity.”

Harry clenched his jaw.

“Are you going to ask me to step out of the case?”

“No. I believe it would be counterproductive given Mr Malfoy’s conditions and emotional state which, I must say, improved after you started engaging in a relationship with him. But it’s a violation of the Ministerial code and I can’t pretend I didn’t see it.”

“You know I’m committed to this job and I risked my life for it more than once.”

“I do. Yet, you’ve committed also a violation.”

*

“And that’s Scorpius’ future spot,” Draco whispered, pointing a finger at the golden branch under his name, in the Black family tapestry. “He’s growing!”

Harry giggled at the awe in Draco’s voice and tightened his grip on his lover’s waist, kissed the soft spot on the back of his neck, where the hair was thinnest and almost white. 

“Don’t laugh at me, Potter!” the Slytherin protested, sighing under his calming ministrations. 

“I promise you, I’m not. I just love when you do this.”

“Do what?”

“Mh,” Harry murmured, turning his attention to Draco’s jaw. The watch on his wrist beeped once and Harry pressed a last kiss on Draco’s neck and stood up. “I have to go now. Ed will be here in moments.”

Draco nodded, wrapping the woollen cover around his body. The tapestry room was one of the coldest, yet he loved spending time there, looking at the family tree. 

“Be back soon,” Harry said, reaching the stairs.

He ran down just in time for his colleague’s apparition. 

“Hey!” Ed greeted, two enormous bags of food on his arms. “How is it going? Are we there yet?”

“Maybe. We’re approaching the due date and the Healer is confident. What did you bring us this time?”

“Oh, Malfoy’s favourite biscuits and stuff,” the Auror replied, storing the supplies. “I do hope this is the last trip to this house. No offense, really.”

“None taken. It’s cold in here and I can’t wait to breathe fresh air again. But apparently, we need to wait until Draco feels sick. I don’t get why.”

“Healers, men,” Ed shrugged. “But you know what?” he added after a moment. “This new fellow, this Burns … I didn’t have the chance to catch his conversation with Hannah, but apparently, he wants to talk to Shaklebolt and report something. Do you guess what it could be?”

“No,” Harry lied. “Do you?”

“No clue. I just hope he doesn’t get bitchyand asks me for a full report. I hate doing those.”

“Same.”

They stored the rest together, moving slowly and chatting casually. At the end of his twenty minutes, Ed Boyle Disapparated in a pop. Harry climbed the stairs again.

Draco was still sitting on the floor, among the pillows and the covers, stroking his belly so very gently. Harry leaned on the door admiring him in silence.

“What now, Potter? Another round of giggles about me becoming shamefully soft?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Yes, I know but …”

“I’m so glad I was assigned to this task.”

Draco’s expression changed; face almost crumbling on itself, eyes growing wider.

“They discovered our secret, haven’t they? They know about us.”

Harry simply nodded. He took a step forward.

“What will …” Draco started, paused, started again. “Will something change? What will happen?”

“Nothing, probably. Something, if they agree that my behaviour was unacceptable. I was the Auror assigned to your protection and I should have acted according to our ethical code. I could just get a formal reprimand or lose my job. I could get removed from this case.”

“Not that. Everything but that.”

“What?” Harry asked. “Me being removed?”

Draco raised his chin. His eyes were wet with tears, not because of sadness but because of rage.

“Yes. You can’t have them remove you. This is not … I would refuse further custody.”

“What are you talking about Draco? It’s your son’s life. That’s more important than both me and you!”

“I’m saying that I will!” the Slytherin snapped, tears flowing quicker. “Tell them that you will trade your place for staying more, tell them that you will accept anything. But you have to promise me that you’ll stay … you will stay with me until the end. You can’t leave me, not now! You have to stay!”

“What about my job? If I bargain with them, they might ask me to resign.”

“I want you to stay, I don’t care about the rest! Stay!”

Harry closed his eyes and the door of the tapestry room behind him.

*

Two hours later, when Draco didn’t come down the stairs on his own, the Auror finally snapped into action and ran to the tapestry room. How could he ever be so bloody selfish? He held Draco in his arms at night, felt the beating of his heart and his child moving under his fingertips and now he was having second guesses because of his job.

He opened the door and looked around. 

At first, he didn’t see anything, the room being dark and empty. Then saw the figure on the corner, crying quietly under the covers. He ran towards him, knelt so fast he bruised his knees.

The room was so cold.

“I’m sorry … so sorry …” he kept on saying, performing wordless warming spells and kissing Draco’s damp skin over and over again. “It’s my fault! I forgot about the spells … I’m so sorry, my love.”

Draco sobbed loudly, clenching his frozen fingers around Harry’s arms. 

“Of course, I’ll stay with you. Until the very end,” he said, cradling his blond head on his chest. “No other places I’d rather be.”

His lover cried a bit more, then sighed with relief. He raised his hand.

“Harry … they don’t know how it will happen, in the end. They say they’ll figure it out, but I’m scared. I don’t trust them. They don’t have enough information or experience to handle this and I know what happened to the wizards before me,” he confessed. “The war robbed me of everything. My assumptions, my pride … the Ministry did the rest. I have nothing now, except myself and this baby.”

Harry swallowed back the tears.

“I want him to live. He’s mine and I want him to live!” Draco said, clenched teeth and angry eyes. “You have to promise that if something happens to me, you will take care of him.”

“Draco, I …”

“He’s mine and you have to. Please, say that you will.”

Harry held Draco’s face while struggling to find words. He loved him, he loved him so much. He wanted to be with him forever, he couldn’t bear to lose him …

“Say it.”

“I promise.”

*

The last week passed and Draco couldn’t find the strength to move. Harry helped him in any way he could, but he couldn’t hide his fear anymore.

“So tired, Harry …”

“I know, love,” he replied, helping him standing just for the sake of having him leave the bed. He guided him towards the kitchen, while he planned on another round of screaming at the Floo which didn’t seem to work anymore. “Just sit in here for a moment, huh?” he murmured, easing the heavy wizard on a chair and muttering all the spells he could remember to make him feel comfortable. 

The house was becoming colder and colder and he needed word from Kingsley.

“I’m going to check the Floo and come back.”

“Harry,” Draco groaned, grasping his wrist. “The due date was a week ago and I haven’t felt anything … I don’t know what that means. Am I not supposed to feel him push?” 

The Auror didn’t have the faintest idea about what was supposed to happen. He kissed his lover’s sweaty temple and whispered reassuring lies. He smiled, before storming to the Floo where he asked for Healer Burns and Kingsley and the Minister himself.

“If anything happens to Draco I will hold you personally responsible!” 

A loud pop came from the kitchen and Harry run back in the room.

Ed Boyle was standing in the middle of it, bewildered.

“Sorry … supplies?” he asked.

Draco opened his eyes, confused, and Harry stepped towards his colleague. 

“What is happening?” he screamed. “Why nobody’s answering my calls? Why isn’t the Floo working?”

“The Floo isn’t working?” 

“Fuck the hell no! Draco is tired and he needs to get away from here! Why isn’t the Floo working?” 

“I don’t know about the Floo. I think … I think there is a problem with the lines of communication. I think … I think the Ministry is isolated for now. They send me here to check on you. I’m going to help him out of here.”

“If the Ministry is isolated, how come they sent you here?” 

“Oh well, because they …” Boyle looked around, confused. Then raised his wand. “ _Oops!”_  
  
A lethal curse pushed Harry in the other room.

*

“Harry! HARRY!”

Draco was in the kitchen and he was screaming.

Harry opened his eyes and raised a hand on his chest. His shirt was torn and he was bleeding. _Sectumsempra_. Right on his arm and shoulder. Luckily, Boyle was an ass at aiming for the opponent since the training program and Harry was stronger at shielding.

He stood on his feet, flashes of pain blinding him, and grasped his wand. He took a deep breath. Heard Draco’s cries of pain. And charged.

“Expelliarmus!” 

Boyle’s wand jumped in the air and he hit the floor, Harry pushing him down. He didn’t had time to whisper anything, the Gryffindor’s bloody fist found his face. On and on again.

“You motherfucker! It was you! You damaged the Floo!” Harry screamed, hitting him. Boyle’s eyes rolled back. “You want to hurt him!”

Something sharp sneaked in his arm, inside the open wound. Harry howled, fell on his butt. Boyle’s face was soaked in blood and spit, almost unrecognizable. He was grinning like a mad man, holding a knife.

“Not really, but there’s no other choice, isn’t it? I need to cut him open after all!”

Harry turned to Draco who was openly crying, stuck in his seat as if he was petrified. Blood was flowing everywhere and the Sectumsempra cuts were opening more. 

Draco shook his head, spit on Boyle’s uniform and stared at the knife with pure terror. He called for Harry one last time and Harry clenched his feet and, with all the energy he had left, jumped forward and pushed the Auror under him once more.

Then something exploded on the Floo and Harry felt another stab and Ron’s voice, calling his name …

He closed his eyes.

*

Harry opened his eyes in the bright whiteness of a hospital bed. Trying to move a bit, he felt a painful stir on his left shoulder and saw stars.

“Oh Harry, you’re finally awake! Don’t move, you’ll still healing!”

Sweating, trembling in confusion, the Auror looked up and saw Hermione’s loving face and felt her hand upon his.

“Hermione … what?”

“You’re in St Mungo’s,” she explained promptly. “You were attacked with the Sectumsempra curse and stabbed with a knife. You slept for a whole week, Harry! Me and Ron … we were so worried! You’ve lost too much blood, but the Healers found a way to cure you and now you’re here. You’re safe.”

She pressed her lips, wet with tears, on his forehead, on his cheeks. Harry moaned, still confused.

“I know, I know. It’s because of the healing potions,” she smiled. “You’ll be alright soon enough.”

In the fog invading his mind, the Auror remember the attack.

“Boyle?” he recalled, surprised.

Hermione nodded.

“He tampered with the spells protecting Grimmauld Place. We realised that too late and we came as soon as we figured out it was him.”

“Why?”

“The baby’s blood. He wanted to sell it to the Dark market. He has an addiction problem with Felix Felicis and needed money.”

“The baby … Draco …”

“They are fine,” Hermione smiled. “We took Draco to St Mungo’s and it happened. He gave birth to the baby. He’s such a lovely boy. Healthy and strong! Nothing strange about his blood or anything else. A perfect, regular, adorable child.”

Harry smiled back, finally exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Hermione squeezed his hand. 

“Where’s Draco?”

*

He sat up on his bed with some difficulty. His bones felt rusty, his brain still a bit fogged. The Healers came and went. They checked on his wounds and gave him potions and advices that Hermione carefully noted.

Ron came later with Kingsley. Despite the report that was about to be written on his code breaking, Harry got praised for his bravery and for keeping at bay the traitor. He listened to their words bearing a single thought in mind.

“I suppose it’s time you go to him,” Hermione said, at some point. “He must be sitting in the garden. He always goes there, after checking on you.”

*

Harry put on a jacket and a pair of slippers. He couldn’t care less about anything else and it was decent enough to walk in a hospital with an actual hospital gown. He strolled the corridors slowly but with iron determination and pushed the door that lead to the garden on the second floor.

There were people walking and standing about, patients and relatives talking. Harry searched for an unmistakable blond head and walked towards the centre, where the fountain was.

He saw him, sitting on a bench, staring at the fountain with wistful eyes. He stepped forward instinctively. Then he froze, he spotted a little bundle of covers and Draco dropping his gaze to look at it. He rushed forward.

“What’s wrong?” Draco was whispering, rocking his arms gently. “What is it, my darling boy?” 

He smiled at the child fussing and falling asleep again. He looked up.

“Hey.”

“Harry! You’re awake!”

“That … I am,” the Auror replied, a bit awkwardly.

“How are you feeling? Sit down.”

He obliged, wincing in pain.

“Shouldn’t have left the bed so soon …”

“Yes, I had,” Harry replied. He took a deep breath waiting for the pain to subside. “I had to meet your son.”

Draco gave him a look of pure wonder. Then, he raised his left arm and unfolded the covers that were hiding the baby’s little body. He discovered a pair of tiny, rosy hands and a small face all crumpled and flushed. 

“He’s so beautiful,” Harry exhaled. “He looks just like you.”

“Does he?”

“Yes … he’s perfect.”

The Auror’s finger brushed against the little hands and he felt as if his heart was threatening to explode on his chest.

“He truly is,” Draco murmured, fighting the urge to cry in relief. “He made me wait long enough. Eleven hours after the attack, suffering and screaming. But in the end, he came to me. My son,” he whispered, pressing a kiss on the child’s brow. The baby mewled.

“It’s incredible. How did you call him?”

“Scorpius,” Draco replied immediately. “His name is Scorpius.”

Harry smiled.

“Scorpius Malfoy. That’s a good name for a kid.”

“Scorpius _Harry_ Malfoy.” 

A Healer approached them. She knelt next to the baby and whispered something about schedules. Draco nodded and smiled happily when she praised the baby’s character. Scorpius was a quiet, lovely child, just as Hermione told Harry. Harry who was currently staring at the flowing water, speechless.

“I need to take Scorpius back to the nursery,” Draco said, kissing his son’s head. “In a moment, they will send us home for good. Scorpius is safe and so am I. Mother is waiting for us.”

“Sure …”

“Harry …”

The Auror looked back at the man sitting beside him. The man he swore to protect, the man he fell in love with. The man who named his own son after him.

“I know you don’t have to protect us anymore,” Draco began. “I know it was duty and now it’s over …”

“It wasn’t just duty … it was never just duty.”

Draco held his baby against his chest and looked at him imploringly.

“I couldn’t possibly ask you … it’s too much. A baby, a family …”

“Ask me,” Harry replied. “Please, ask me. That’s everything I want.”

Tears fell from their eyes, but they struggled to understand who was crying and why. Summoning all his bravery, Harry got closer and embraced Draco, then pressed their forehead together and took a deep breath.

“I love you,” he confessed. “I love you both.”

He sensed Draco’s smile and leaned in, kissed that smile with everything he had. Little Scorpius mewled again and opened his big, grey eyes to him for the first time. 

“Then stay with us, Harry Potter.”

“No other place I’d rather be.”


End file.
